Games of the Heart by Kristen Ashley
Acknowledgements
A shout out to my Rock Chicks on Facebook for again helping me in my hour of need. I didn’t know what to name Dusty’s horses and out poured the ideas. Thank you to Gitte Doherty for giving Moonshine her name. And thank you to Jenny Aspinall for naming Blaise.
As ever, you rock! Amazeballs!
The character of Dusty Holliday came to me named Delilah. Seeing as there’s a Delilah in this series already, I couldn’t use it. Devastation ensued until I got on my Facebook page and inspiration hit in the form of one of my members, Dusty Sample. I saw Dusty’s name and Delilah was a memory. My girl was Dusty so now your girl is Dusty.
And also gotta give devil’s horns to Annie Anderson who turned me on to K’s Choice’s “Not an Addict”. Of course, she told me she heard another character in one of my other books singing this song but once I listened to it, I fell in love. So through Annie I gave that to Dusty and No and through them they gave it to a lot of good people and I cried while doing it.
Thank you, Annie.
As usual, to all my readers, I urge you to listen to the songs I note in the passages while reading or later. I do it while writing and it enriches the experience and I hope it will for you too. But even if you don’t listen while reading, “Not an Addict”, Soundgarden’s “Fell on Black Days” and Sarah McLachlan’s “Ice Cream” are definitely worth your time.
And to Shelley Egerton, I hope you like my Fin. I’m in love with him. Thank you for the name, my lovely, and big smooches to your Finley.
And last, thanks, Chas, for having my back. One day, you…me…hooch…and we’ll solve the world’s problems. Love you, sistah!
To James B. Mahan II Gramps, I still see you on the tractor, your skin as brown as berries,
one of our dogs trailing,
on your way to “the bottom”.
Thank you for taking care of our farm.
I miss you every day.
And I miss our farm,
where I always felt safe,
because you made it that way.
“That’s it, Kiki. Eagle eyes.”
To James B. Mahan III Uncle Mike,
You’ll always be the best Mike there is.
Thanks for showing me men can be
handsome, badass, cool, funny, protective and loving.
Though no one does it better than you.
*****
Chapter One
Hey, Angel
Darrin Holliday was dead.
Mike Haines sat in the back row in the large viewing chamber at Markham and Sons Funeral Home staring at the open casket at the front of the room.
Ten minutes ago, he’d gone up, done his duty, looked down on a dead man then chatted briefly with his wife. After, he gave his ex-girlfriend from high school, Darrin’s sister, Debbie a hug and his condolences. He then moved to Mr. and Mrs. Holliday, brushed his lips against the older woman’s cheek and squeezed the older man’s hand. And after that, he’d solemnly shook Darrin’s two sons’ hands before moving to the back to find his seat.
Looking at the casket, Mike thought Darrin would fucking hate that. Being on display. Mike was surprised Darrin’s wife Rhonda had done it. Especially with her two boys, Finley and Kirby standing in front, close to that shit. But it was easy to see that even though they were forced to stand close, they were doing their damnedest to get as far away from their dead forty-four year old Dad displayed for everyone in The ‘Burg to see.
And everyone was there. Folks had even come from out of town. People Mike went to high school with that he hadn’t seen in years. Friends of Darrin’s parents who had long since moved to Florida or Arizona. Folks who’d lived in The ‘Burg for a while after high school then moved to Chicago, Lexington or Cincinnati for jobs but took the hours long drive home to say good-bye to a friend who died way too fucking young.
This was because Darrin Holliday was a man people liked. Always had been from when he was a kid. A good guy, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, a good football player who turned into a good farmer and a quiet man devoted to his wife and family.